


Of Greater Enemies

by ParabolicHamartia



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV), Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insanity, Jeremiah Valeska is Joker (DCU), Pre-Laughing Toxin Jeremiah Valeska
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22920595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParabolicHamartia/pseuds/ParabolicHamartia
Summary: Lex finds himself intrigued by a certain contracted structural engineer, Xander Wilde. Lex decides it might be advantageous to meet the new prospect, though he might have gotten more than he bargained for with the solitary engineer.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Lex Luthor Mentioned, Ecco & Jeremiah Valeska, Joker (DCU) & Lex Luthor, Lex Luthor & Jeremiah Valeska
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Of Greater Enemies

Lex Luthor was riding, blindfolded, in the back of a compact car going God-knows-where. The absurdity of the situation crossed his mind more than once, and the silence of the driver was mildly disturbing. He knew he only had himself to blame, but curiosity was a hard thing to quench. In some way, knowing his compulsion for the truth and information, this was the only way it could have gone.

It began with a building. A recent addition to the LuthorCorp building had been drafted and sent to him for approval—probably another test from his father so that he could later snub Lex's taste in architecture. Lex was surprised to find that the blueprint for the addition was remarkably detailed, distinct, and structurally brilliant for what the architect was building. In a fit of curiosity, he had caught sight of the engineer behind the plan: Xander Wilde, a virtual nobody. It was astounding work for such a no-name. That was when Lex started to conduct further research into the mysterious Gotham native. As he searched through his resources for the greater part of two days, the engineer became infinitely more intriguing.

Lex immediately tried to open a line of communication with the engineer under the guise of a budgetary concern. His calls were answered by a proxy, who informed Lex that she would handle all correspondence—intriguing still. In an effort to lure him out, Lex insisted that he fly Xander out to Smallville to "alleviate the infamous Gotham gloom" and discuss business. He was put on hold, which he imagined was a hand over the speaker since he heard whispering in the background. He was then asked to call back the following day. When he called back, Lex was particularly perplexed when the promising engineer had dismissed the idea—stating through the proxy that he would rather stay in Gotham of all places to conduct his work. He even maintained that if they talked without the woman on the other side, he would use a voice modifier. No, that wouldn't satisfy Lex's curiosity. It had simply become too juicy for him to let slide.

Lex, realizing he was potentially losing them, simply said, "Alright then, Xander, why don't I meet you in Gotham. I can have a plane ready for myself and be there in six hours. You get to choose the location, and if it's a restaurant, I'll pick up the bill. Just tell me where to meet you."

There was another hold and more whispering. Lex heard brief terms and phrases: "you'll be in danger," "be beneficial," "a Luthor," "foot in the door," " _him_." Lex found his foot tapping as what he mentally dubbed the "spousal squabble" continued. He wondered if he would have to implement his backup plan, which was far from ideal if he was going to have a non-aggressive conversation with the engineer. Eventually, they reached a consensus.

"Mr. Wilde will meet you outside the _Plaisanterie_ coffee shop on Market Street at 1400 tomorrow."

"Of course," Lex had barely answered before the line went dead.

Most would have found it annoying to jump two time zones to meet with a contractor, but Lex was well acquainted with the symptoms of jetlag. He found the city to be the more annoying factor. Gotham's cleanliness and heights were Metropolis' lows. The city smelled of brine, and a persistent smog seemed to loom over it. The cold, wet air didn't help either. The traffic was unbearably slow due to poor city planning. Lex mused that it took him longer to drive through than to fly to Gotham.

The shop that Xander had picked was sub-par at best. The coffee was below average, a lukewarm cream and sugar fest—he'd ordered black. There had been better coffee even in the early days of the Talon. Lex found himself and his two bodyguards sitting lonesome at their window seat table for twenty or so minutes after the agreed time. Five minutes before he started to think he was being stood up, there was a knock on the window. A strict looking blonde woman stood outside and gestured for him. Lex obliged, accompanied by his entourage of muscle, and found her at the mouth of an alley.

"I'm going to have to search you," the woman, who Lex now recognized as the proxy, started to pat down his shoulders.

Lex waved off his bodyguards and put his arms out. She was uncomfortably thorough and didn't seem to mind at all that she was doing a search in plain view of a street.

"At least let me buy you a coffee first," Lex grumbled a half-hearted flirt as the woman searched him around his pant legs.

Finally, she found something. She glared at him when she pulled the handgun from his inner coat pocket.

"You expect me to come to Gotham without carrying?" Lex asked dismissively. Apparently, that was enough reason for them to continue with the meeting, but the woman handed the gun off to one of his bodyguards.

"We're going." She looked over to Lex's two bodyguards, "They stay here. No bargaining."

"Fine," he looked over his shoulder at the two. "Enjoy lunch while I'm gone. It won't be more than a couple of hours."

The proxy led him across the street and down a block until they reached a pale little car. The plates showed that it was a rental. She indicated for him to get in the back, and he did. Once in, she shoved a black cloth into his hands.

"A blindfold, really?" Lex sighed. When she didn't respond or even start the car, he reluctantly put it on.

After contemplating how he had come to be in the situation, he realized how bazar it all seemed. Well, not Smallville bazar, but strange enough. He tried multiple times to start a conversation with the proxy ("What's your name?" "How long have you been working for Wilde?" "Do you work for tips?" "I bet you majored in hospitality."), but nothing seemed to work. Part of him considered that he was being kidnapped. The other half took comfort in the tracking device he put in the bottom of his shoe for safekeeping. He wasn't going into this blind and deaf.

He could feel the twists and turns of the road but couldn't tell exactly where he was. The way suddenly felt uneven, like they were now off-road. After spending what seemed like an eternity sitting in silence on the bumpy road, the car came to a stop.

"Don't take it off yet," The proxy instructed.

He was led with minimal care out of the vehicle. Lex stubbed his toe on what seemed to be a root and found his patience being tested. He was willing to put up with a lot for the sake of interest, but this was becoming outrageous. Suddenly, he heard a massive door swing open, felt the air change, and realized she had directed him inside. She led him a little longer by the hand. The heavy door closed behind him.

"Take the blindfold off and follow me."

Lex pulled the cloth off and noticed his concrete surroundings. She led him down a flight of stairs, and he noticed an earthy musk as well as a chill and damp feeling like a basement. They were underground, maybe ten feet or so. A long hallway preceded them, but she suddenly took a left down another path, then a second right. He followed the blonde woman through and realized the twists and turns they took. He noticed that there were paths untraveled and no doors or outs to be seen. It was convoluted and didn't seem to show any signs of other construction to be completed or suggest any other purpose apart from the hallway being a hallway.

"A labyrinth?" Luthor asked aloud. If the proxy heard him, she didn't show it.

Eventually, a door presented itself. The proxy slid it open and held up a hand for Lex to wait.

She called into the room, "Mr. Wilde, your guest is here."

"Send him in."

Lex pushed past the proxy and entered a room that resembled a workspace. There were CCTV screens in the back. Blueprints and paper lined the walls and tables, but despite the overabundance of stuff, there seemed to be an unspoken order to them, an organization that only the creator understood. In the center of the organized chaos, stood the engineer. The spectacled man was in his early twenties. His red hair was neatly slicked to the side. Everything about him seemed controllably methodical, neat, but the choices of his attire—a light purple dress shirt with a dark green tie and burgundy slacks—were incomprehensible to anyone with a basic eye for fashion.

"Mr. Luthor," he greeted quickly and extended a hand.

"Mr. Wilde," Lex nodded and shook the hand. Xander's handshake was clammy and limp wristed.

"I hope everything went smoothly," Xander's eyes traced Lex's face.

"Sure. I was not expecting such a runaround, but it was bearable," Lex noticed that the proxy had vacated the room. "Well, the help could have been more attentive."

"Ecco can be a bit overprotective," Xander sighed. "She was against the entire meeting. I hope she didn't lead you down the wrong path; she forgets the way sometimes."

"No, didn't get lost at all." Lex shook his head. "I have to admit, I felt like Theseus braving the labyrinth. Though, I was unsure if I had already met the minotaur or was going to."

"Well, I hope you're not here to slay me," The engineer joked a little.

"On the contrary," Lex grinned. "I am more confident than ever that I'm in the presence of a modern Daedalus."

"Well, I hope I don't disappoint then."

Lex had always had an eye for body language. Xander seemed exactly like he expected: the typical introverted intellectual that he sometimes witnessed among his top scientist with the exception being the added visual peculiarity of an eyesore wardrobe. The engineer slumped, twiddled, and shuffled his way through the room. There was an air of nervous caution, both in his voice and his gestures, as he stood particularly far from Lex after the initial handshake. However, he'd expect nothing less from the reclusive type. Even when he poured and handed Lex a drink, his hand trembled a little. Lex felt a surge of confidence as he finally regained control. If there had been any worry about Xander's character or Lex's situation, they were now soundly put to rest.

"Well, you choose some fine top-shelf whiskey," Lex said after a drink. "I assume that your other guests are treated very well."

"You can imagine that not many would go through the process you have," Xander replied. "The only other business partner I've allowed down here was Thomas Wayne."

"Oh, yes, I remember Thomas," Lex nodded. "My father went to a party of his. He refused to shake my father's hand. I liked him from the start."

Xander smiled politely, "Mr. Wayne was a good man and, perhaps, you are too."

Lex smirked, "I'm glad you have some faith. Where I'm from, Luthor is often mentioned in the same vein as world dictators."

"Exaggerated, I'm sure."

_Not as much as I would hope._ Lex almost said aloud. "Of course."

Xander seemed to be guarded. He was burying the conversation in small-talk pleasantries. Lex wasn't going to be pleased if he came out the all that way just to drink and have a surface level chat. He wanted to dissect—a nasty word, but it applied—the man, understand him and the strangeness surrounding him. Something caught his eye, and he moved over to a stack of blueprints shoved onto a table.

"You have quite the collection of mazes here," Lex said as he flipped over the blueprint paper.

"Yes, I've been drawing them since I was a child. I've always been fascinated with them." He seemed to lean over to the side to see what Lex was flipping through. Lex continued despite the constant watch from the redhead. Some of the designs were mazes; others were for prototypes for machines, some were for buildings. However, one stood out to him. A small, one-room bunker, the likes of which had no windows, was composed entirely of concrete, and only opened from the outside.

Xander didn't seem comfortable with the silence or Lex's nosiness. The redhead pulled himself back as if realizing that he was hovering, but Xander also seemed to notice Lex intentionally being quiet. Good. Lex hoped this would prompt Xander to up his game and talk about something more personal without it coming off as Lex prying into his personal life.

Instead, Xander seemed to question Lex, "I hope our meeting circumstances are not too strange. It _is_ strange. I mean, I made you leave behind your bodyguards." There was a pause as he allowed Lex a moment to respond. "Most would have given up at that point. I certainly wouldn't have come under such circumstances," Xander seemed to scan him.

"Maybe I have confidence in you, Xander," Lex nodded. "Besides, Tesla was a reclusive eccentric with a fascination with pigeons, yet he changed the face of the earth. I figure it's a trick of the trade for geniuses, and I can tell you're not light in the genius department."

There was a glimmer of appreciation before it was snuffed out by something darker, "For the flattery of such a compliment, I can't help but see that there is a darker side to it."

"Oh?"

"Yes, at the end of his life, Tesla was nothing but a destitute public curiosity that no one understood," he seemed distant suddenly, "his name in the shadow of another."

"Are you afraid something like that will happen to you?" Lex raised a brow as things were finally starting to get interesting. That would explain the avoidant behavior if he was afraid of competition.

"Tesla wasn't found until the morning after his death," Xander muttered. "That doesn't seem too far off from reality."

Lex finally started to notice a stray blanket on a chair and paper dishes in the wastebasket. He realized that it was not only Xander's workspace but also his permanent residence. He decided to offer some advice. "Well, you could vacate your labyrinth. That might be a start."

"Unfortunately, not an option. I do some electrical engineering as well; it can get dangerous. I prefer solidarity."

"Well, at least get someone other than the battle-ax outside. There are lab assistants at the Gotham LuthorCorp building that would love to see your wo—"

"I prefer to work alone. It's when I'm at my most efficient."

Lex raised an eyebrow, "Do you even occasionally chat with the mailman?"

"Well, Ecco takes up that role," Xander smiled weakly. "Like I said, the last person down here was Thomas Wayne. If I'm honest, the only people I've talked to in person during the last two or three years is Ecco and you."

"Oh," Lex was taken aback. Now he could imagine the situation a bit better. He wasn't just avoiding competition; he was a complete shut-in, possibly even agoraphobic. Lex felt a bit of pity.

"Don't worry about it." Xander noticed the change in expression. "I've never required friends."

Luthor inclined his head to the side. He knew he shouldn't get involved, shouldn't care, but he felt the need to say something. Maybe getting personal would allow Xander to do the same. "Neither did I for the longest of times, but friends are valuable. My friend, Clark, for example, he's a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy—the Pirithous to my Theseus. We might not always see eye to eye, but he keeps me company, keeps me in check, and keeps me on my toes. And—well—he has a proclivity for calling me out when I fail."

"Seems more like an annoyance," Xander noted a bit of slight in Lex's voice.

"Well, in my line of work, it's refreshing to get a dose of reality," Lex shrugged. "The thing is friends challenge you, make you a better person, give you a bigger perspective on things. Clark, in his infinite naivete, wonderful optimism, and forgiving ways, has done that for me."

"And maybe someone can do that for me?" Xander asked like he was stating Luthor's next line.

Luthor shrugged, "That, but contact with the outside can be healthy, and I mean more contact than the proxy."

"So, I need to find a Clark," Xander rested his glass near his chin.

"Sure, think of it that way," Lex shrugged. "Just, don't hit whoever it is with your car."

Xander suddenly gave a genuine sputter of a laugh; almost, a spit-take with hard liquor. He coughed and covered his mouth, but it didn't hide the fact that the man was amused, "Is that how you met?" He eventually spluttered.

"Oh well," Lex suddenly remembered that it wasn't the official story that Clark was hit—just his personal theory. He smiled regardless, "More or less. Sometimes, things are fated to happen. Sometimes they're fated to happen in specific circumstances. He was the one who saved me after the crash. He showed me a kindness very few would."

"Seems like the kind of friendship that could last forever," Xander noted. "Hitting someone with a car is usually where the relationship ends."

Xander seemed to hover closer. Lex felt like a planet with a satellite. The engineer would unconsciously shift closer and further away as if an indicator as to his comfort with Lex. He'd started at a moderate, if far away, stance, but now hovered within arm's length. He also seemed to have a curious habit of scanning Lex's face for any twitch of emotion. If he saw it, he would mirror—in fact, Lex noticed Xander imitating him quite a lot in terms of stance and expression. A fleeting thought of attraction crossed his mind before he dismissed it. There wasn't an adoring look in his eyes; it was more analytical, fascinated, the kind of look that wasn't hard to imagine on someone who had been a shut-in for so long. Lex could imagine the same look on his own face in specific settings.

"Yeah, hopefully, it is," Lex shifted. He needed to stop talking about himself; he could use the comfortable goodwill to his advantage now. He turned back to the blueprints, "But you said that you drew these when you were a child. I bet you were an up and comer in your class."

"Oh, my childhood is nothing special," Xander dismissed quickly. "I was sent from foster home to foster home until the Wilde family took an interest and adopted me."

"Well that's hardly ordi—"

"It's really nothing special," Xander kept a polite expression despite the snap.

"Oh, come on, everyone has some small story from their childhood."

"Well," Xander pondered for a moment. "My favorite color was purple when I was young. Reminds me of a royal court." He shrugged. "My childhood is very boring. I have to tell you."

Lex mustered a smile to hide his disappointment. He wasn't getting anywhere. Xander was still hiding from him. Lex decided to change tactics: maybe a bit of negative stimulus would open him up.

"Well, as much as I like small talk, I think it would be best if we went into the matter at hand," Lex reached into the pile of blueprints and pulled out the one that was for LuthorCorp. As he harshly pulled it out, Xander held up a hand to show caution but lowered it quickly. Luthor laid it out on the main table, and Xander set down his drink and started to prattle.

"Well, as you can see, I've drawn up a basic blueprint. I'll need to redraft, though. The west corner—"

"Yeah," Lex cut in suddenly. "I'm going to need you to destroy this."

"What?" He stammered. "Do, do you not like it? I can remodel."

"No," Lex set down his glass on another blueprint, creating a condensation ring. "It's perfect, actually. I love everything, especially your suggestions for the architecture—the little _fleur-de-lis_ in the columns. The architecture, the design is all flawless, better than some of those who I work with. The problem is that it's too nice, at least, for what we intend to use it for. I don't think that your style matches what we need. I don't need you to be the engineer on the project anymore."

There was a pause, and Xander stared blankly at him, "I—I don't understand."

"Just trust me, Xander," Lex started to fold up the blueprint. "It's better off destroyed. However, I understand an artist's connection to his craft. If you're not able to destroy it, then," he gripped it as if to tear it, "I can help you."

Predictably, Xander's hand snatched the blueprint from Lex's grasp. Lex glanced his way to see the deep red in the man's face.

"I—um," Xander stammered as he retreated. "I don't think I will. I—you—you," he took a breath. "I respect your opinion Mr. Luthor, but my contract is with the company, of which," he fixed his glasses, "from my understanding, you are not the head. I'm not sure that you can terminate my contract just like that."

"Oh, I'm not here on the standing of the company, I'm simply suggesting that _you_ back out. There's a clause in the contract that allows you to withdraw before the first payment has been issued. I encourage that you do so."

Xander gave a confused, if hurt, look, "Why would I do that?"

"Because it's in your best interest. Please consider withdrawing."

Xander took a moment to recover; he stared, bewildered, at the sudden shift in Luthor's demeanor. Feeling defiant, he pushed back, "Or what?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Then I won't withdraw."

Lex sighed, annoyed that his vague threat wasn't sufficing. Usually, that would be enough for most people. Apparently, the weight of the Luthor name didn't carry much on the east coast. "Fine then." He studied the engineer's face, then nodded like he had come to a conclusion. "You and your brother do look a lot alike."

The engineer notably had a bit of shock run through him but tried, with moderate success, to maintain an ignorant demeanor, "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a brother."

Lex smirked a little. The engineer was a bad liar.

Lex set his drink down and nodded, "You hid your tracks well, Jeremiah, but not well enough to avoid my people," he shrugged as "Xander's" face went white. "Not that I would want that kind of association with your family members."

The redhead shook his head more defiantly, "I don't know what you think. . ."

He stopped when Lex gave him a knowing glance.

The engineer looked downward at some unknown point. His fingers nervously drummed on his thigh. There was a bit of a tenuous pause before he answered.

"What do you want?" Jeremiah muttered as his eyes flickered nervously.

"Withdraw from the project," Lex said. "It's that simple. Nothing further required and nothing against you. I find your work absolutely stunning. I prefer my father not to have such a valuable asset at his disposal."

Jeremiah seemed flabbergasted. "That's petty," Jeremiah breathed.

"Of course it is, but the look on his face would be priceless. Just another thing Lionel Luthor can't get his hands on."

"So, I'm a pawn," Luthor saw the shadow of pain in his eyes.

"Technically, but I treat my pawns better than he does. Be thankful. Traditionally, I would have drudged up your name, sent it to the nearest paper, and had the headline 'LuthorCorp building to be designed by Gotham maniac's lookalike' on every front page that'd take it."

"Then why didn't you do that?" Jeremiah's eyes nervously flicked across different parts of Luthor's face. "You're obviously not here to talk finances. Why go through all the trouble to meet me?"

"Because you intrigued me," Lex smiled a bit. "In a way, it's a tale as old as America. A pioneering young man sets off from his unfortunate circumstances to make a better life for himself. You built yourself from an abusive family and circus lifestyle no less. That sort of dedication is admirable; it shows tenacity. Your story just so happens to have a little more murder involved than most. I saw how you made your way through school, how the Wilde family took you in for your prospect and left you a particularly large sum of cash when they kicked the bucket, and how you managed to build a way of life off of your work and mystery. I was very impressed. I didn't want to destroy your hard work with a headline. So, I thought a courtesy call would work better."

The redhead was still in a state of shock; he blinked and tried to speak many times before finally sealing his lips.

Lex continued as he poured another drink for himself, "I assure you; I don't show my generosity often or to simply anyone. Take it with gratitude. It might be a loss right now, but maybe in a few years, when I run LuthorCorp, I'll hire you for a job. Though, you would have to leave this bunker; it's a little off the map."

The engineer maintained a mannequin-like stance. Lex noticed that Jeremiah was staring a hole into the ground.

Lex sighed, "Look, Jeremiah, I'm not the bad guy. I just don't want to see you tainted by my father." That didn't seem to ease him. Lex decided to speak more honestly. "Admittedly, I have a morbid curiosity about your past. Your struggle, from what I been able to uncover, is a particularly interesting one. But I doubt it's the full story; I want to hear it. Saint Ignatius and Excelsior Academy were practically rivals, and my father considered sending me to Ignatius on multiple occasions. I'd like to think I could have met you under different circumstances—we could have been friends even."

Still, there was nothing from the engineer. The only thing that changed was the tapping of a finger. It was irritating. Usually, people tended to bow out, get angry, or show some kind of emotional response to Lex's upper hand. Part of Lex wondered if he broke the man. He wanted an answer, so he continued.

"I guess I found it strange how you covered your tracks even before your brother left a stain on the family name. It's curious that after school and the Wildes died, you dropped right off the map. The bunker, the proxy, the alias, the anonymity, you're hiding from him, aren't you? Can't say I'm surprised. The papers keep talking about how he 'came back from the dead.' Nonsense." Silence, still. It was finally starting to eat away at Lex. "I don't mean to pry, but it is fascinating to think about. I can't help but imagine what it was like to live with your brother knowing how he turned out and all—the sibling rivalry must have been something. I can im—"

"I was stupid," Jeremiah suddenly murmured. Lex became quiet as he looked at Jeremiah's slumped form. The engineer seemed to rise as he spoke, "I thought this would be easy, a reminder of what I escaped from. But your charm convinced me that maybe you were here out of genuine humanity, that you had beaten it somehow. Now I see that I was simply a playful curiosity to you. But that is your nature, I suppose."

Lex set down his drink with bemusement, "I don't know what you're getting at, Jeremiah. You're going to have to speak up."

"Oh, it's nothing, Lex," he bobbled his head. "I was just musing about how you tricked me."

Lex paused for a moment before making what he considered a sort of apology, "Well, I don't mean to be intimidating, but you were a hard man to get to know. I just wanted to understand you. A little white lie was necessary. I hope you can understand."

"But that's all you do, isn't it?" Jeremiah muttered. "Lie and cheat and steal. It's not fun to have some secrets revealed, but they are interesting to uncover." He wagged a finger before shrugging and looking at a different spot on the floor. "I've conducted my own research and found you equally as lacking."

Lex cocked his head to the side: what was he doing? The nervous man had suddenly been peeled back to reveal something else. Jeremiah seemed the unobtrusive, shy type, and Lex's research and interviews with previous instructors and administration of his school confirmed it. Now, he seemed a bit more antagonistic. However, his talk of secrets didn't scare the Luthor. Jeremiah must have been naturally frustrated from being exposed. Lex decided to let him vent; it might be fun even to see what "shocking" fact he'd dug up.

"Alright, shoot," Lex smirked. "I'm sure it's nothing that every tabloid hasn't said forty times."

"Oh, I don't care what kind of party life you led during your days. Everyone with a connection and a brain can figure that out. I'm talking about some of your more personal, intimate aspects, like your love of the comic book character Warrior Angel." He didn't make eye contact; Lex realized he hadn't made eye contact since the reveal.

Lex smiled a little, "Oh, well, you've got me there. You've picked one of the most popular comics from my day and assumed I was a fan. Are you going to say that I drink water next?"

The twitch of a smile threatened at Jeremiah's lips, "Yes, a boyhood fascination, much like many childhoods. However, most children don't have the number of writeups you do for mental breakdowns."

Lex stilled but pushed it aside—this was nothing new, "Getting a little personal, I see."

"Please, Lex. I'm not the one who got personal," Jeremiah muttered. "You managed to do that when you decided to visit me and dig up my past. Now, how do we characterize you further? Aside from your party days, you've been assigned by your father to the community affected by those meteor strikes, which you yourself were there during the event. You've been married twice: once after a week and to someone who was arrested for almost killing you soon after. Then your second wife went missing in a plane crash with you only to resurface miraculously. After you disappeared—thought dead—you were found on an island, starved and delusional, talking about a man who didn't exist, talking about how you killed him. Then your wife went missing again right after you came back; no one can find her. Then you spent a considerable amount of time in the Belle Reve Sanitarium."

Lex took a moment as Jeremiah spilled on about his life. Sure, Lex knew he was no angel, but Jeremiah spoke like he'd spawned from the depths of hell. However, the information didn't scare him. School records, employee interviews, video recordings, and police reports could get you a lot of information—he should know, he sourced them regularly as did many nosey journalists over the years. However, he admitted he was impressed that Jeremiah had, with notably way less money and connections, cobbled together a somewhat cohesive case. For what reason, Lex had no idea. The lack of eye contact was getting on his nerves.

"As much as I love the highlights, I have to ask: where's this going?"

"I'm doing my due diligence and laying out my evidence before I make my claim. All of these events have allowed me to gather a profile of your character, especially beyond your purposeful smokescreen personality." He fiddled with his glasses again. "All of it has led to the only conclusion."

Utterly confused as to what any of that info he had just dumped could have amounted to, Lex asked, "And that would be?"

Jeremiah's head tilted at an angle, "You are _absolutely_ insane," Jeremiah murmured. "A complete sociopath."

Lex snorted, "Cute, never been called that exactly—well maybe a couple of times, but not with the self-seriousness you do."

"You are insane, though, to~tal~ly insane." He almost sing-songed the words but remained deadly serious about the matter. "At every possible moment in your life, you've taken advantage of people. There are unexplained disappearances, strange coverups, and a lot of inexplicable deaths. Something tells me that there is a lot more to this then simple business. How else is someone like you to hide your true nature?" Lex was used to the barrage of accusations, especially from those who were seemingly as morally dichotomous as Jeremiah. He would have tuned him out if he hadn't heard the final phrase. "It's all so clear. You're just like _him_."

Lex took a moment before he realized what he was talking about; a pitiful laugh escaped, "I'm not your brother, Jeremiah."

"Maybe not exactly like him, but close enough," Jeremiah shrugged.

Lex found himself utterly perplexed. Jeremiah was transposing properties of his psychotic brother onto him like it was perfectly logical. At first, he thought maybe Jeremiah was doing it out of spite, but the look in his eye showed that he believed what he was saying. Jeremiah was a lousy liar; this seemed to be the truth. It led to more questions than answers.

"So why invite me in if I'm just like your psychopathic brother?"

"I wanted a reminder of what I escaped," Jeremiah said, "A case study related to a case study. It has been a while since I've observed him, so I wanted a version lighter to study. I needed to see how he would evolve from a child, gain some sort of understanding of his condition through the actions of another. When you presented yourself, and I did a little digging, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to observe you."

Lex sighed, "Well then, you've failed in your basic hypothesis, I'm nothing like the guy. I read some of his exploits. If you know anything about me, anarchy is not in my method."

"His method is completely irrational," Jeremiah agreed; his line of sight had left the floor and was now looking at his glass on the main table. He rotated it slowly with his hand. "Of course, anyone can see that, but you're smarter than him. You hide your madness, keep it under the guise of cool, methodology."

"Is it that? Or are you piecing evidence together to fit whatever description you have in your head."

"You don't fool me," Jeremiah muttered. "Everything that I've described has revealed your true self, a self very similar to my brother. I'll admit slight differences. For one, your ailment makes you paranoid, but that's just a mode to your madness—a way that you express it when Jerome just kills people. On that note, I'm sure you've killed due to paranoia, Lex; I just can't find anything concrete."

Paranoid, the thought was laughable. Lex was, by nature of his upbringing and his environment, ready for anything. What Jeremiah called paranoia Lex knew it was his only lifeline in his father's cutthroat corporate world. Yeah, people died sometimes, but that was just the nature of his life in Smallville and Metropolis. Jeremiah couldn't possibly understand. Or did he? Lex caught sight of one of the designs he saw earlier: no doors, no windows, opened only from the outside. A room like that had a limited amount of purposes, and there was likely only one answer. He yanked it out from the pile.

"Paranoid? At least I'm not building a prison cell. You're not seriously going to try and capture him, are you? That's what you're doing. This room is a cage. This is why you made that maze outside. You don't trust that the state can do it, so you, what, created a prison for him? Or—" he caught sight of the potential designs. There were extra things that he hadn't noticed, no real ventilation or food slot, just a camera and a cell without any possibility for sustaining life. Lex felt very disturbed suddenly, "You're going to kill him, aren't you."

"Only way to be sure," Jeremiah said with no more emotion than discussing pest control.

"And _that_ doesn't seem crazy to you?"

"It's not crazy," Jeremiah's voice was bitter. "You would understand if you had to live with him. You would know what I've been through—how he tormented me."

"Then enlighten me."

Jeremiah paused for half a minute and stopped rotating the glass. He looked distant suddenly, but Lex could see the gears turning behind his eyes, "He used to look at me, used to mutter plots for killing me even when I was in earshot. He used to stab a knife in my pillow while I slept—remind me that he could do it at any moment. Every second of my life, there was constant anxiety; he found it fun to torment me that way."

There was no doubt that the man warranted some pity, but Lex didn't feel particularly generous at the moment. He continued to keep a stern expression.

Jeremiah's lip thinned into a frown, "Sometimes, just to keep my sanity, I'd have to imagine cracking a stone over his head, then bashing his skull in until nothing remained but blood and flesh."

There was an awkward silence. Lex felt like his curiosity had led him down a very, very dark path—like Alice in Wonderland. Jeremiah seemed to keep some of his thoughts under lock and key, but, when he was honest, he was too honest. They were the kind of thoughts everyone had but no one ever admitted to because they knew better. Jeremiah didn't seem to know better, or maybe he did. Jeremiah glanced sideways to see Lex's perturbed expression before looking down again.

"You can't tell me you've never thought of something like that, Lex," Jeremiah said with a bit of bite and a hint of knowing.

Despite his best efforts, Lex thought back to the night of the storm in Smallville, not more than a year ago. Lionel Luthor was crushed under part of the manor. His father reached out for Lex. Lex hesitated to save him. A similar moment presented itself: Lex was half-crazed, gun in his hand, ready to end his father just like he had tried to have him killed in the plane crash. The only thing that stopped him was the promise that there was another culprit. The many times he had thought about killing his father presented itself. The amount of hatred for Lionel was only held back by his station as his father and, more prominently, his station as the head of the company. There was always some small social barrier that kept him from doing it. Lex shook his head. He couldn't let Jeremiah get to him.

"What kind of question is that?" Lex bit back.

"The kind of question that only makes people like you pause and think. Why _did_ you seek me out, Lex? I doubt it was from the purity of your heart."

Lex pondered it for a moment. He traced the idea back to its origin. Jeremiah's work was impressive, sure, but he saw that every day. There was also the matter of his unusual family, but Lex could find a maniac in anyone's family tree if he just dug far enough. Honestly, there were more interesting people that he could have bothered to visit. However, there had been something different. The evidence of it hadn't been outstanding; most of it had come from adoption forms or notes from the school. Small, old scars, signs of cigarette burns, and small chips on Jeremiah's bones documented a history of abuse and neglect. Lex had no physical marks, nothing that told of his nasty household life. The wounds were mental, hardening, and, now, seeing Jeremiah in such a defensive state, Lex could see the same scars reflected back at him; he was distrustful, cunning, reserved. Perhaps there was something about Jeremiah's situation that he sympathized with on an emotional level.

"You do beautiful work, Jeremiah," Lex said with honesty. "And, I guess I understand what it's like to hate your family name—to live in the shadow of a legacy that you didn't choose."

Jeremiah's expression didn't change. His eyes finally looked at Lex's hands resting on the table, "I don't think that's it."

"It's the truth," Lex shook his head. "Jeremiah, believe it or not, but not every action I take has a dangerous motive. I am human; some genuine generosity slips out from time to time. Tell me, what exactly do you see in me that you can directly attribute to your brother: some action or specific malice that we both share? What criminal act have I committed that just purely embodies your brother?"

Jeremiah was silent. He stared off again, unwilling to meet Lex's eye. Lex took it as a sign that he had broken through to him. He felt like he'd proven the false link between himself and Jeremiah's brother. Sure, the engineer could call Lex dishonest or psychopathic—could refer to an old story or find something that might seem the same—but he couldn't compare them directly.

Lex shrugged and turned his back to pour himself another drink, "Come on, Jeremiah, you have to realize you're being unreasonable—"

"Attempted fratricide, or in your case, fratricide," Lex stopped and turned around at the sudden snap.

"What?" Lex was perplexed at the sudden outburst but was even more so when he saw Jeremiah. He was staring right at Lex now. He seemed to pull himself upright, making himself taller. His expression became still—no other emotion crossed his face. The hint of nervousness that had persisted throughout their meeting vanished.

"You talked about me having a sibling rivalry earlier; you seemed very intent on fantasizing about it. Is it your sibling rivalry, or, more accurate, your lack of one—" he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose "—that makes you do so? I assume anyone who hadn't experienced such rivalry or was deprived of it would fantasize about it. Or perhaps," he shrugged haphazardly. "You already took your rivalry to its natural conclusion and are reminiscing about what could have been."

"What exactly are you implying?" Lex's voice was tinged with danger. _He couldn't know. . ._

"Well, SIDS is a particularly nasty tragedy that can also be an easy label used to conceal sudden, unwanted death. But it doesn't usually result in a build-up of carbon dioxide in the lungs, and bloodshot eyes, like the first responders initially reported," In a swift movement, Jeremiah reached up and pinched his nose as to block the airway in a demonstration before shrugging and pulling his hand away. "It would only take one—two minutes, maybe mere seconds depending on the previous breaths, age, and heart rate. Or, did you use a pillow?"

Lex felt his hands tremble in anger. How did he know that? No one— _no one_ knew that. Hell, Lex himself had repressed it, the truth at least. There was a twinge in his eye; Jeremiah enjoyed watching him squirm. Lex wasn't going to ask "how" or "why"—that would only show his hand. He wasn't going to deny either. Lex didn't know if, at this point, Jeremiah had concluded his findings with fact or paranoid delusion.

"You know," Jeremiah handled his drink. "For all the downsides of having Jerome as my identical twin, at least he couldn't kill me in the cradle."

Lex had to force his arms to his side. A vein pulsed visibly in his temple. Delusion or not, the sick bastard was enjoying this. The emotionless façade didn't hide the look in his eye.

Lex had to keep talking or his fists were going to fly, "So, you think you have some sort of leverage with this wild, paranoid fantasy of yours? You planning on going to a newspaper? Want to try and muck up my name?"

"No, I just want to identify you as the person who I know you are." He looked so damn pleased with himself.

"And, who exactly do you think I am?" Lex questioned.

"In short, a Luthor. It seems the entire Luthor line is just a syndrome of insanity and Machiavellianism."

"So very much unlike you and your family," Lex remembered the police reports he had not only pulled up on his brother but his uncle and mother as well. They were not the most wholesome bunch.

Jeremiah seemed annoyed by the insinuation, "If you can't see the obvious difference between our situations, it's futile to point it out."

Lex scoffed; he was becoming more and more frustrated with Jeremiah's lack of self-awareness, "On the contrary, the more and more I talk to you, the greater the similarities between you and your brother become. For everything you've said about me, I could probably point out something similar in you. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don't remind you of your brother? Maybe—" he stopped, realizing what he was saying.

_I remind you of yourself._ Lex took an extra moment to examine the man. Plotting, conniving, cold, calculating, genius—if he didn't know better, he'd call him a long lost Luthor. But there was something else, something that Lex saw in his eyes, an unspoken viciousness held back by a thin thread. The way he spoke so casually, so amused by Julian's death, Jeremiah enjoyed more than just the game of wits. Where Lex saw macabre themes and secrets as a way to dig under people's skin, Jeremiah seemed to enjoy all of it. Maybe Lex didn't want to finish the sentence; he didn't want to be compared in any way to such a person.

Jeremiah didn't seem to have the same revelation. He seemed to lack a level of introspection that would seem obvious. That seemed to be one of the most infuriating parts of the engineer. It was either a lack of self-awareness or he was in a persistent state of denial. It was like arguing with a brick wall. Lex's knuckles turned white with how hard he clenched them.

Jeremiah took Lex's silence as a triumph. He stepped closer, gaining confidence as he spoke.

"See, my logic is sound, even you with your distorted understanding can see that. The Luthor family is just redefining the field in disfunction." He seemed looser, casual; he was enjoying the power trip. "All of you exceptional in their own way—like a little play. You're the delinquent, tragically insane son. Your mother took the role of the very unfortunately deceased parent. Your father made a _killing_ in the business." A small smile appeared like he was thinking of something funny, "And Julian gave a whole new definition to the phrase baby blue."

Jeremiah's head jerked back as Lex's fist connected with it. He stumbled back and gripped his now very busted lip. His glasses sat crooked; the bottom of the left frame touched his brow. Lex recoiled. He hadn't meant to lose his cool; the punch he threw was pulled, more like a bop to his jaw. Still, it felt good. Lex lowered his fist and glowered at the visibly shocked man. The engineer's lips almost had the tug of a smile—like everything he had been theorizing about Lex was right. It made Lex's blood boil.

"That sick sense of humor," Lex said through gritted teeth as he tried to maintain his composure, "it runs in the family, doesn't it?"

Jeremiah took a second to wipe the blood from his mouth—a fruitless errand, it merely smeared it, "All the worst traits seem to, don't they?"

Lex felt his fist ball again—that stupid, near-visible smile. He forced himself to relax his hand. He couldn't have it come to blows with this man. Yeah, Lex was confident that he would win, but there was a certain glint in the other man's eye. It was the kind of look of a cornered animal: shifty but focused at the same time. Lex wasn't so sure that he would escape unscathed. Besides, Lex was convinced that the battle-ax bodyguard would incapacitate him in seconds. He couldn't afford to be reckless.

_Clark's not around to save you either,_ he thought sarcastically. _Though I'm sure he would find a way._

He decided to keep his cool and be the better man.

"I think I'll take my leave," Lex said slowly.

"I think that's a good idea," Jeremiah nodded after a couple of seconds, he took a hand and readjusted his glasses.

They stood there for a moment, not quite knowing how to leave. Neither wanted to turn their back to the other. Jeremiah suddenly turned and pressed a button on the middle table. In less than a second, the door slid open, and the proxy suddenly appeared. She took one look at Jeremiah's face, and her body tensed before he waved her off.

"Mr. Luthor will be leaving now," Jeremiah didn't break from his staring contest with Lex.

She nodded and roughly gestured for Luthor to follow her. Lex gave Jeremiah one last glare before taking a step to turn.

"Lex," Lex stopped, and Jeremiah cocked his head to the side. "I will withdraw, though not because of this meeting. It turns out you spoke some truth about your father. My research revealed that there are too many unexplained deaths under his belt to trust him. I'll leave your little Machiavellian match out of concerns for my safety."

"I wouldn't tell him what I know." Lex snapped. "Wouldn't help me anyway. He'd just get more insistent on keeping you. Your secret's safe."

"I expect nothing less," A smirk appeared on Jeremiah's bloodied lips as Lex was turned around by the she-beast.

A thought crossed his mind. Damnit. Had he just lost? He had gotten what he wanted, but Jeremiah was undermining him even in that event. Jeremiah had dirt on him that he didn't think the engineer would have cared about if Lex had just left his curiosity alone. Lex was left with nothing, nothing to hold over this man that he couldn't throw back at him. Lex didn't want to turn and face him, but he was sure there was a smile on Jeremiah's face. Lex wanted to wipe it off.

"Jeremiah," Lex stopped at the door. He didn't wait for a response, "When Daedalus built the labyrinth, it wasn't to keep people out. It was to keep a monster in." He paused for dramatic effect before shrugging. "Just a thought."

Lex took a chance glance over his shoulder to see the confident smirk fade into a cold glare. With that, Lex exited into the maze. The door slid shut, leaving the engineer alone.

Jeremiah stared at the door for a moment before looking down at his rejected project. He took a moment to smooth over the wrinkled edges. He took a look at his work, the careful measurements, the days of labor. Maybe he could salvage it for another project. Suddenly, the blueprint was marred by a drop of blood. Jeremiah remembered his injury and thumbed away the blood. He caught sight of the title at the top. LuthorCorp. Luthor. His fingers crumpled the paper. Jeremiah ripped the blueprint to shreds.

Lex was abruptly left at the coffee shop. The car, driven by a proxy who seemed to be at that point radiating anger, peeled off, not a second after he stepped out. He was up in the air an hour later. He couldn't stand the place any longer. The dour city seemed even darker from above as smog consumed it as he left. He had never been gladder to see the wheat fields of Smallville, Kansas.

Jeremiah was a headache that remained for several days. Some part of Lex wanted to dig more, discover something that would keep him away. He stopped. Smallville was a long way from Gotham. There would hardly be a reason to meet again, let alone a reason to wage war against one another. Lex came to the conclusion that Jeremiah was too cautious to let his info slip. Lex could just phone a few lawyers for his problems; Jeremiah would need to find a different home if he was going to settle his irrational fear of his brother. Instead, he decided his efforts would be better geared towards the strange mysteries closer to home: Clark and whatever secrets the town still held.

Lex's little exploration of self-discovery and generosity had led him to make an enemy—he found it to become a recurring theme. Jeremiah had sought him out to remind him of his brother, but instead, it seemed that Lex found a more suited reminder of what he could become. His father still held weight over him, and if he wasn't too careful, he could end up being the one secluded in a bunker. It was a bit of a wake-up call. He took a register of everyone in his life and was honestly grateful that he wasn't alone.

For all the shady actions he took, Lex found solace in the fact that he wasn't as gleefully villainous as Jeremiah. For the next week or so, part of him still worried about the engineer. After seeing where his irrational morals lay and the extent of his intelligence, the possibility of Jeremiah being unleashed like a caged animal—perhaps even in the same vein as his brother after the talk of killing—became something of an imaginable reality. Then Lex remembered Jeremiah's insecurities and took comfort in it. Lex was sure that as long as the engineer stayed paranoid and buried in his bunker, Jeremiah would be too far away from the world to harm anyone.

What was the worst he could do?

**Author's Note:**

> So, I recently started watching Smallville, and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. So, I wrote this "little" (it started little) thing to release it into the wild. I really like Clark and Lex's dynamic. I think I'm a sucker for the "mortal enemy who used to be a friend of the hero" trope.  
> I'm still working on my other stuff—promise. I just needed to get this off my chest.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


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